People are Stupid
by Erin Cumberbatch
Summary: "Why doesn't he like me?" Olivia Moriarty asks her husband when her son refuses to touch her. We all know Jim Moriarty is a psychopath, but not many people know how he came to be the genius we know today.  Will begin as baby Jim then go through his life.
1. He Doesn't Like Me

**Hello Everybody, Erin Cumberbatch here. This story is focused on the best villain ever, Jim Moriarty. I'm going to start off with him as a baby and progress through his life, eventually joining the plotline of the TV episodes. Hope you enjoy, don't forget to review!**

**-EC**

****Disclaimer: If I owned Sherlock Holmes I would not be sitting here like a lemon writing fanfiction. But I don't and I am. ****

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><p>Screeching and wailing, the baby in the young woman's arms struggled to get away from his mother. There were tears in her eyes as her husband took the baby out of her arms and cautiously placed him back in his cot, which instantly silenced the child.<p>

"Why doesn't he like me?" the tired woman whispered as her husband sat down next to her and stroked the brown wisps of hair that had managed to escape her tight ponytail out of her eyes. "He's only happy when he's left on his own. I don't understand." Her ponytail bobbed up and down as she shook her head sadly.

"Don't worry, Liv, he'll just take a little time to get used to us. Just give him time, and everything will be okay. Before you know it, he'll be saying his first words and taking his first steps."

"I know, I just worry so much, Frank." Olivia sighed, sipping her Earl Grey and looking sadly towards her now peacefully sleeping son.

"Don't, Liv My Love. Don't worry." Frank gave her a tender kiss on the forehead while she chuckled softly at the use of her pet name. He loved it when his wife laughed. He would cherish the moments, those small, rare moments when her face would relax and break into a smile and her tiny voice would ring with laughter. Olivia was a constant worrier, so to hear her laugh was a precious moment for Frank.

The husband and wife lay on the bed together, planting kisses on each other and talking wistfully of their plans for the little family's future.

And all the while, young James Moriarty dreamt of the bliss of solitude.


	2. First Word

**Hello, thank you if you have bothered to actually read this chapter, that means you want to read more! Yey! So I hope you enjoy this, please read and review.**

**-EC**

****Disclaimer: If I owned Sherlock Holmes I would not be sitting here like a lemon writing fanfiction. But I don't and I am. ****

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><p>Most children first begin speaking at eight or nine months. Most children's first words are "mummy" or "daddy". James Moriarty was not most children. Olivia and Frank Moriarty both were eagerly anticipating their son's first word- when he was 7 months old, they began to encourage him to speak. They read picture books to him, watched children's television to him, had the radio on all the time, and spoke to him. James still struggled whenever he was picked up, so the parents had both long since given up trying to give him a cuddle. Olivia still planted him with kisses all the time, and stroked his little head when he slept, but that just resulted in the baby squirming away and crying until she left him alone.<p>

By the time he was one year old, baby James still had not said a word to his parents, and Olivia, as usual, began fretting. Frank, as usual, comforted her.

"Liv, it's fine, everybody learns to speak eventually. He's just a little later than most babies, but just you wait, soon he'll be rambling away to us about his first day at school." They both smiled at the thought of their baby James going to school one day.

So Olivia stopped worrying- Frank seemed to have that effect on her. He knew exactly how to make her smile. She still encouraged her son to talk, still tried hard. But she didn't lose sleep over it.

I_n fact, James had said his first word three and a half months ago. His parents had been "playing" peek-a-boo with him to get him to smile and laugh and giggle like a normal baby. He didn't. Eventually the two adults had given up trying and left him to his own devices. As they walked out of the room, the little boy mumbled the word, "Stupid." He wasn't sure what the word meant yet, but it seemed to describe his parents quite well._

"I can't wait for him to be able to talk to us though." Olivia sat down and looked at the sleeping baby. "I love him like this, he's so sweet and beautiful, but it will be lovely when we can have conversations with him. Find out what he's like."

And it was true, when young James slept he did look sweet and beautiful, because that was the only time he was truly happy- it was the only time when his parents left him alone and didn't annoy him.

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><p><strong>Well I hope you enjoyed that, sorry the chapters are so short, when Jim gets older they'll probably be at least one thousand words, its just the most I can really write when he's this age is a few hundred words, because he's too young to actually think things properly. By the way, for plot reasons, I'm keeping him as James for now, but don't worry, soon enough he'll be the Jim we know and love.<strong>

**-EC **


	3. Of Pushcairs and Playgroups

**Sorry I didn't update before now, I've been busy. I'm aiming to update perhaps every day, but at the least every two days. I'd just like to say thank you to the people who have alerted and reviewed so far, it really made my day. Knowing that people are enjoying this really means a lot to me, so thank you. This chapter is a little longer than the others, I would have made it quite a bit longer but I was really eager to update, sorry! As ever, hope you enjoy, read and review!**

**-EC**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Sherlock Holmes I would not be sitting here like a lemon writing fanfiction. But I don't and I am. **

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><p>James Moriarty hated his pushchair. He completely despised it. Everything about it repelled him- the way he could barely move due to the straps that held him down; the dependence he had on his mother or father to move him about; how he couldn't decide where he could go- his parents always chose for him, carting him about this way and that so he could get cooed at by complete strangers and get scared by the pigeons in the street. James hated pigeons. James hated a lot of things (ducks, fish, refrigerators, safety pins, onions and umbrellas were just a few on his list of hated items which his parents had to keep away from him to stop him crying).<p>

As soon as he was able to walk at 10 months, the little boy insisted on walking everywhere, although many times his parents forced him to sit in the pushchair, as he had a rather alarming habit of running out into the middle of the road, giggling as the cars zoomed by, inches away from him. This caused his mother to hyperventilate, so after several incidents in which he had done this, his parents decided that it was best for him to stay sat down when they weren't out in the park.

James had tried and succeeded in escaping from the pushchair numerous times, managing to undo the tight strap with his tiny baby hands, which were so often put in the adorable mittens Olivia had made to keep him safe from the cold. They matched with his jumper, hat, scarf, socks and teddy bear (the woman had had a lot of free time during the later stages of her pregnancy).

At the age of eighteen months, James was introduced to playgroup. He hadn't been taken there before because Olivia was worried about germs, and didn't trust the other parents to keep their children clean. However, she quickly developed a new worry about him not being able to socialise with other people in the future, and she was desperate for her son to have friends. So, overcoming her fear of little James getting ill, she decided to take him to playgroup.

Olivia was rather surprised when she got to the room- she expected it to be a bit empty and pathetic, but in fact there were lots of children and parents there, and the room was brightly coloured, with flowers, grass and trees painted on the wall, giving a nice, cheerful atmosphere. It smelt rather too much of disinfectant, but at least that meant it was a hygienic place. In the centre of the room was a round carpet where babies and toddlers were playing with various toys.

As she walked in, pushing James in his pushchair (which he hadn't gotten into willingly) a tall smiling woman who all the other mothers and fathers seemed to know came up to her. She was a little pushy and over-confident looking, but at least she was friendly.

"Why, hello," she greeted them. "You must be new here, welcome! I'm Yvonne Powers, I sort of 'run' Sunshine Playgroup. And you are…?" she prompted, brushing her dirty blonde hair out of her face.

"Olivia Moriarty. This is my son, James, but most people call him Jamie."

Yvonne crouched down to look at the sulking child. "Hello, Jamie! Oh, what a lovely little boy!" she lied. It wasn't as if he wasn't a cute baby- on the contrary: his dark hair was messy and soft and he had huge chocolate-coloured puppy-dog eyes that made whoever look into them melt. Plus, at the rare times he smiled, it was infectious- everyone else in the room would smile. At least they would if they had been there to see it. But at this moment, James Moriarty wasn't what you'd particularly call 'lovely'. He had a huge frown on his face, eyes creased and mouth turned down. He fidgeted in his seat, fed up that he had once again been forced into the pushchair.

"How old is he?" The two mothers carried on their conversation as James carried on moping.

"Only just eighteen months." Olivia smiled lovingly at her son.

"Sweet." Yvonne smiled a little bit too much. So, have you been to a playgroup before?" They walked over to a nearby table that held plastic cups of orange squash and rich tea biscuits.

"No, actually. I was a bit worried about coming, to tell you the truth." Olivia blushed.

"Oh, that's natural for a first-time parent. But I assure you, Olivia, Sunshine Playgroup is a delightful place with a warm, friendly atmosphere. Any parents can bring their child if they want to, you don't have to sign up or anything. It's really very casual." Yvonne gushed. Olivia smiled and took a sip of squash. James sulked.

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><p><strong>Author's note: By the way, when I say "dirty blonde" I mean the colour, not that her hair is blonde and not clean. Just to make that clear. I would also like to apologise for my lack of baby knowledge. I kept having to ask my Dad about stuff, because I now nought about babies, only that they are absolutely adorable. Hope you enjoyed, sorry that these are all so short, I really need to make them longer! <strong>


	4. Snake

**Here is a new chapter for all you lovely people that have been kind enough for reading this. Thank you to all the people who have reviewed and alerted, you have no idea how happy it makes me. I hope you all like this chapter, and it would be splendiferous if you review. **

**-EC**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Sherlock Holmes I would not be sitting here like a lemon writing fanfiction. But I don't and I am.**

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><p>James looked down at the toys in front of him. He wasn't impressed. A toy train, a teddy bear, a rattle, a plastic tambourine and some building bricks had been presented to him by his mother. None of them sparked any particular interest inside of him. They were just… things. Objects. He didn't see what fun would come out of pushing a plastic train, hugging a plush bear, shaking a rattle or tambourine, or stacking wooden cubes on top of one another. Yet Olivia seemed to think he'd find them fun and exciting.<p>

She crouched down in front of him, and shook the tambourine vigorously in front of him, a big, eager smile on her face. He didn't even blink- just looked at her curiously with his wide brown eyes, as if he was trying to figure out how exactly he was expected to react. Olivia kissed him on the forehead, and was just about to pick up the toy train when she heard Yvonne calling her.

"Olivia, darling! You simply must come and meet Alex and Lisa, come over here for a minute!" the tall woman beckoned her over to the other side of the room.

Olivia seemed a bit worried about leaving James alone, but she knew that the playgroup was a safe environment, and besides, she wasn't going to be away for very long, just a few minutes. But it was long enough.

Once his mother had gone, James pushed himself up off the carpet and began to toddle about inquisitively, in search for something more interesting that the pathetic pile of toys Olivia had placed before him. He was a bit wary of the noise of the other children playing, since he hadn't really met any other children before. He had seen some when he was taken out in the park, but he had usually been kept quite a distance from them, since at the time Olivia had been scared of germs and head lice.

At the side of the room, there were numerous coloured plastic boxes containing toys, and since there wasn't much activity near them, the small child wandered towards them. He leant over the top of one of the boxes and peered inside with curiosity. There wasn't much inside, apart from an old-looking discarded sweet, a bus ticket and a large plush toy snake. James reached towards this last item with his little arms, and only just managed to grasp it and drag it out of the box.

It was quite a large, heavy snake, more than three times the length of James and just as wide. This made it all the more appealing to him, and he gave it a big tight squeeze. He then proceeded to wrap it around himself, as if he was hiding from the outside world. It was so warm and comfortable. The little boy giggled as the snake's head flopped about, felt tongue dangling out of its mouth. The odd thing about it (that he would only come to realise later) was that the snake was furry- and of course, everybody knows that snakes have scales. But James had never seen a snake before, had never even heard of one, so he wasn't to know that there was anything wrong with his new distraction.

Which made the word he uttered next all the more strange: "Snake."

Somehow, James knew that it was a snake. He had no idea how he knew. He just did. It just felt **right**.

James snuggled up with the "snake".

Meanwhile, Olivia had been chatting with Alex and Lisa. They were regular visitors to the playgroup, and had a 2 and half year old, Lily. She was always eager to go to playgroup and play with the other children. Olivia smiled and nodded at the couple, thinking how nice it would be if she and Frank could also be part of this community of parents, who all seemed to know each other.

"Yes, we set up Sunshine Playgroup about a year ago, we campaigned to get a bit of money from the council to get this room done up in the community centre, and all the toys were donated from other families." Yvonne went on, smiling all the while.

Olivia did like Yvonne, the only problem was that she was a little too smiley, a little too friendly. But she was a model parent, it seemed like all the other parents looked up to her. From what she'd heard so far, Yvonne Powers had a sustainable job in an office, with good pay, but also had free time to spend with her husband and son, who she went out to the park with every evening, and she spent her Saturdays at Sunshine Playgroup with her son, which was unfortunately only open once a week. She seemed like the sort of woman who would be part of the PTA at school, and who all the teachers and parents would have heard of, even if their children were completely different ages. She seemed like the sort of woman who had time to have a successful job but also time to do things like bake bread and cakes, and go out on hikes once a week. She seemed like the sort of woman who Olivia was desperate to be like, so she could make a good mother for James and make him happy.

Her thoughts were suddenly broken by the sound of two children fighting.


	5. Mine!

**I am so sorry I haven't updated before now, I completely forgot... Please don't be so angry that your brains explode and you can't read this chapter. Thank you so much to all the people who are still reading this despite the uneven updating and the atrocious chapter length, and those who have even taking the time to review. Hope you enjoy this, and ever, it would mean a lot if you took the time to review!**

**-EC**

**P.S. Apologies if this chapter is a bit rubbish, I was singing along to Horrible Histories while writing it, so it might be a bit patchy in certain areas. I'm sorry, I just can't resist watching HH songs!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Sherlock Holmes I would not be sitting here like a lemon writing fanfiction. But I don't and I am.**

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><p>"Mine!" Olivia heard a tiny voice shout out, a voice that she had never once heard yet somehow she knew at once who it was.<p>

She spun around, and saw James sitting in the middle of the carpet, glaring evilly at another child, who was wrenching a big toy snake from his arms. That was the first time she had ever seen her child glare- and was it a shocker. His eyes blazed with pure hatred, and if looks could kill, the other child would be dying a slow, painful death. Luckily, looks couldn't kill, but James Moriarty certainly could. And, one day, he would. Many times. But Olivia Moriarty was completely oblivious to this little fact. For now, at least.

The other boy was clearly at least a year older, and his mop of blonde hair bobbed about as he tugged at the toy furiously. "Mine!" James cried again, but he was hopeless as the older child pulled the snake away from him. James' cheek was red from where the boy had evidently hit him. Pouting and frowning in frustration, James attempted to grab the snake back, shrieking the word "Mine!" over and over again at the other child. However, since James was only small, he ended up falling to floor, after the older boy had kicked him in the shins, seeming quite satisfied that he had won this little war.

"Jamie! Are you okay?" Olivia ran to comfort her son, guilt spreading through her at the thought that she hadn't been paying attention to her murderous angel.

"Carl!" exclaimed Yvonne (much to Olivia's surprise) as she rushed towards the blonde boy who was looking quite smug about the whole circumstance.

"You do not take toys that other children are playing with already, do you understand, young man?" she scolded, looking down at the child disapprovingly. "Well, do you?"

The little boy looked up at his mother, eyes wide and innocent, blond hair framing his face like a cherub as he nodded slowly. "Yeth Mummy. Thorry Mummy." he lisped adorably. It was impossible to stay annoyed at him for long, he was just such a lovely child. So everyone but James thought, anyway.

"Good boy." Yvonne patted Carl's head. "Now, why don't you let little Jamie play with you? You can share the snake, okay?"

"Yeth Mummy." Carl smiled up at her angelically.

Yvonne then turned to Olivia, who was trying and failing to comfort her child, stroking and kissing his red cheek. She tried in vain to give him a cuddle but he just squirmed away, as was usual.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry about that!" Yvonne began talking away at an incredibly fast speed. "I had no idea that Carl would do that, he's always been so gentle and kind and loving! Anyway, I suppose its just because they're young really, they just need to learn to share together. I am terribly sorry, I'll make sure it will never happen again. Is little Jamie all right? I do hope he doesn't need a plaster, does he? Oh gosh, I am su-"

"He's fine." Olivia interrupted, smiling at the concerned woman so that she understood that it was okay. "Just a little bit shocked, is all. He hasn't really spoken to other children before. Well, he hasn't spoken at all before!"

"Was that his first word?" Yvonne beamed, feeling as proud as if he was her own child.

"Yes, he's never spoken before!"

"Wow! That's actually a rather complicated word for a first word. An absolute possessive pronoun! You should feel so proud."

"I do." Olivia said. "Go on, Jamie. Say it again! Mine!" But James would not say a word. Nevertheless, the two mothers attempted at making him speak for a good twenty minutes yet after complete silence from the unswayable child, they finally gave up and went to get coffee. James might have actually spoken, to show off the fact that he could say an absolute possessive pronoun at the age of eighteen months- if it hadn't been for the horrible blonde boy smirking at him and pulling faces at him behind the two women.

From that day on, James Moriarty held a strong hatred for Carl Powers.

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><p><strong>Okay, yes, I know not a very subtle ending. I just couldn't resist. And also, before anybody mentions it, I know, Carl Powers is from Sussex (see The Great Game, 21 min 40 s) and, of course, this is set in Ireland, but I will sort it out and make sure Carl is in Sussex by the time he gets his beloved trainers. Hope you enjoyed.<strong>

**-EC**


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